


The Magic of Christmas

by HarkaSun



Series: The Magic of Christmas, and Other Festive Tales [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas market, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, First Christmas, Fluff without Plot, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Husbands, M/M, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Fluff, Romance, almost christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: When Alec's co-workers convince him to take the week off around Christmas, he decides to embrace the holiday as he never has before. His insistence weakens Magnus's defences and, soon enough, his husband is agreeing to give Alec a true taste of festivity in the form of a Christmas market.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: The Magic of Christmas, and Other Festive Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070840
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	The Magic of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I have WAYY too many ideas for Christmas things these two could do, so hopefully I'll be making this a series of Christmas fluffies (as long as I can get them written in time! If not, there's always next year, I suppose)
> 
> Anyway, this one's the Christmas market, because I'm living vicariously through these husbands while I'm in lockdown!

It is the twentieth of December and Alec is pretty sure Underhill wants to physically kick him out of the institute.

Alec hasn’t taken a day off since being assigned head of the institute and Underhill insists that he at least take Christmas off work, tells him that he can keep the place together until Alec gets back. If only to stop the nagging, Alec agrees to take the week off for Christmas, booking the time away from the twentieth to the twenty-seventh. If it was up to Underhill, he would have left a week earlier and not get back until after the new year.

It gets done early in the morning—Underhill has been pestering him since the start of the month, so Alec just wants to keep him happy. When he gets home that night, after talking the subway to his and Magnus’s apartment, he is greeted at the door with a kiss from his husband.

Magnus looks radiant as always. His eyeliner is dark and perfect, a soft gloss of red power to highlight his glamoured gaze. He is wearing his crimson and black patterned jacket, black shirt and jeans. The jewellery glistening around his throat and dotting his ears and fingers in shining silver.

They have been married only just over a month, but it has been the best month of Alec’s life. The domesticity of it is incredible. Alec loves it. He loves Magnus more and more every day. The ability to say _my husband_ when referring to Magnus in his talks with Clave officials and suchlike brings him such overwhelming happiness.

“Hello, my darling,” Magnus murmurs, draping his arms over Alec’s shoulder, wrists linking at the nape of his neck. “How was your day?”

Alec hums and kisses Magnus’s lips, soft and flush beneath his own. He tastes like cherries. “Better now,” he says as he rests his forehead against his husband’s.

“Another of those letters came for you,” says Magnus, snapping his fingers and conjuring it to his hand once they pull apart enough. A red envelope with Alec’s name and their address in an elegant, sweeping hand on the front. He holds it out to his husband. “From Consul Penhallow.”

Alec sighs and glances to it, doesn’t take it. “Is it the same as the others?”

“Well, I have to assume so,” says Magnus. “I haven’t opened it.”

Clicking his tongue, Alec shakes his head and takes the envelope. “If she wants me in Alicante, she can forget about it.”

“Alec, if you considered her offers a little more seriously…” Magnus ducks his gaze and purses his lips slightly. “I said I didn’t want you to go to Alicante and that was selfish of me. If you wanted to accept a position in The Clave, I’ll support you. You know I’d support you, right?”

Alec lifts a hand to press against Magnus’s cheek. “I know, baby, I know you would… but I’m not going anywhere without you. When I married you, I made a promise to stay by your side.”

“That doesn’t mean you should give up on your dreams.”

Alec shakes his head, kisses Magnus again. “I’ve got my dream right here,” he says. “You are everything I need.” Magnus glances downward briefly and Alec decides it would be better to take both their minds off the whole Alicante debacle. “Changing the topic completely… how would you feel about us doing Christmas this year?”

For a moment, Magnus just stares at him, blinking slowly. “Christmas?”

“Yeah,” says Alec, smiling coyly and using his hands to articulate as he so often does when he gets a little flustered. “I know it’s a mundane holiday, but Underhill was explaining it a bit and it sounds… nice. I’ve got a week off. We could put up a tree and lights and do some baking. It might be fun. It’s okay if you don’t want to; I don’t know if warlocks do Christmas—”

“Alec,” Magnus interrupts and Alec curls his tongue back in his mouth, knowing that he was rambling by the tone of Magnus’s voice. There’s a soft look in Magnus’s eyes. “Warlocks invented Christmas. I haven’t officially celebrated one for a very long time, but I would love to have one with you.”

Alec blinks hard and waves his hand. “Wait, wait, you invented Christmas? Seriously?”

“Not me, personally, but yes, a warlock started the entire notion and then some new religious order took it for their deity’s origin.”

Alec scoffs and shakes his head, not out of doubt in the slightest, just due to the fact that he definitely should have seen it coming. Of course, warlocks invented it. He had come to understand that warlocks had invented most of everything. They had been around seemingly since the beginning and, if Magnus was to be believed, had governed the human race since the start.

Magnus had been known to exaggerate in the past, however. Alec isn’t sure how much he believes. He wants to believe everything, but sometimes it’s difficult when Magnus tells him things like who he has made acquaintance with over the course of his long life. Alec still isn’t sure he believes Magnus has slept with half the people he claims to have done.

“So,” begins Alec, cautious in his queries, “you want to do Christmas?”

“Alexander, it’s me. It’s extravagant decorations. Of course, I want to do Christmas.”

* * *

They argue about everything.

Alec wants to do it all the proper way, how the mundanes do it. He wants to go and pick out a tree, cut it down himself, stand it up in the corner of the sitting room. He wants to go out and buy boxes of baubles, wants to pick a star to put on the top of the tree.

Magnus insists there’s no point, reminds Alec that he can do all that with nothing but a snap of his fingers.

“Where’s the authenticity in that?” Alec complains, taking his jacket from the stand and pulling it on. “Come on, Magnus. Please? It’ll be fun.” He wanders over to Magnus, who pouts playfully as Alec takes his hand. “Come out with me. I want to get some ornaments and decorations… I know you love decorating.”

Magnus’s pout softens into a smile and he cocks his head, lifting a hand to stroke down Alec’s arm. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me… but I’m not cooking dinner. I am snapping my fingers and appearing a feast. I can’t have the hassle of preparing and cooking and washing. Mundanes may be quaint, but their lives are messy.”

Alec smiles. “Okay. Compromise. Magic up the Christmas dinner, but we get to do the decorations like mundanes… What else do we need to do?”

“Are we doing presents?”

Alec startles a little at that. “Yeah,” he says, pulling Magnus in and kissing his forehead. “Yeah, I’d like to get you something, if that’s okay.”

The hesitation when Magnus clicks his tongue makes Alec frown softly. “Alec, I… I don’t get things without giving something in return. I get payment for wardings and potions and… I don’t get _given_ things. I demand things.” His gaze shunts to the ground, breathes out hard. “Alec, I know you think I’m experienced, but this is all new to me. I’m not used to everything you do for me.”

“It’s new for me too,” says Alec, taking Magnus’s hands in his own, holding him tight. “We don’t have to do presents if you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything we’re supposed to. We can just be us.”

Magnus swallows hard, stares up at him. “Alec…”

“You aren’t under any obligation to get anything,” Alec says, kisses his forehead, “but do Christmas with me… please?”

His husband regards him a moment, prising his hands from Alec’s hold and lifting them to clutch at the shadowhunter’s face. “Okay,” he utters, his eyes soft as they meet Alec’s own. He blinks suddenly, stroking one hand down Alec’s arm. “I want to take you to a Christmas market.”

Alec tilts his head at the abruptness of that declaration. “What is that, like a shop specifically for Christmas?”

“A market, Alexander,” Magnus utters. “Have you never seen a market, love?”

Alec looks at him like he’s concentrating very hard. “No,” he admits. “I don’t think I have.”

Magnus gives him a soft smile, his thumbs smoothing across Alec’s cheekbones. “How would you feel about going to one? I know some places that do some beautiful markets. We could get a tree there too, and decorations.”

Honestly just pleased to get a positive reaction, Alec grabs the husband by the waist, spinning him in a concise half circle, ducking him back slightly to kiss him hard and deep. Magnus grunts his shock, but clutches Alec’s face, his lips parting immediately under his husband’s insistent mouth.

He is breathing hard by the time Alec pulls back and the shadowhunter is astounded and gratified that he can still have that effect on an all-powerful warlock, a magic-endowed being who has lived close to eight hundred years. He used to wonder if Magnus was just humouring him, but his husband had thoroughly assured him that wasn’t the case. Losing control of his glamour usually told him as much anyway.

“Well, someone’s pleased,” Magnus utters, grins up at him. “If I had known that accepting your incessant complaining would get me this kind of attention, I would happily agree to everything you ask for.”

Alec chuckles. “Well, now you know.” He strokes a hand down Magnus’s arm. “That’s a handy new trick to get you compliant, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck, Nephilim,” Magnus says in playful warning, his hands fisting in the front of Alec’s jacket.

A hot kind of feeling is growing in Alec’s chest, but he refuses to give into it. Magnus is teasing him. He knows exactly what he’s doing and Alec won’t allow him to get out of this through distractions. “I’ll be pushing my luck later,” he utters in a low promise. “Right now, you promised me a market.”

* * *

They take a portal and it spits them out in a lamp-lit alley in Europe. Romania, Magnus says, but they could be anywhere and Alec wouldn’t know any different. He has never been anywhere aside from New York and Idris.

He follows the warlock, trusting him to lead as they make their way down the street. A man calls at them from a shop doorway and Magnus responds cheerily, using the man’s own language in his reply. Alec just smiles awkwardly as they pass, leaning to Magnus when they are out of earshot.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve realised,” Magnus says, turning on him with wide eyes. “I should’ve brewed you a potion. I know how confusing it must be to not speak the language.” He gestures back down the street. “He was wishing us a merry Christmas. We can go back to the loft if you’d like? Come back another day.”

Alec links their arms at the elbows, holding Magnus close. “Not a chance. You’ll just have to translate.”

The alleyway opens ahead into a large, open space with cobbled ground and bordered by white, warmly lit buildings with dark rooftops. There was a singular, tall lamppost in the centre of the square. From it, spanned dozens upon dozens of lights, connected to all corners. The space is filled with stalls carrying all assortments of festive treats and crafts, boasting a large Christmas tree on one side, a dozen smaller ones dotted around.

Alec stares up at the glowing string light canopy above them. “Oh… wow.”

Magnus watches him, stares at the lights reflected in his hazel irises. Tiny snowflakes have fallen in his hair and his lashes, and his cheeks are softly flushed. His lips are upturned slightly, just enough to show a hint of his teeth. Alec catches him staring and—when their eyes meet—his smile only widens.

“What?” he asks, tilts his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A high hum presses Magnus’s lips. “I’m not allowed to look at my husband now?” he croons in a mock lament, pouting just to make Alec smile. “How unfair. You can’t possibly expect me to exercise proper restraint when I married such a beautiful man and we’ve come to such a beautiful place.”

“Stop,” begins Alec, in a voice that suggests he desires the exact opposite, “talking like that. I know you’re doing it deliberately. You know how I get when you talk like that.”

“Like what, darling?”

“Shush,” Alec just chides, kisses his cheek. “Let’s walk around.”

For the next few hours, they do just that. They admire the tree, arguing fondly about how they will decorate their own. Magnus is insistent on a strict two-colour limit of baubles. Alec pouts and gives a request for multi-coloured fairy lights, plays the gay card to make Magnus raise a playfully disapproving brow at him.

“I say we go rustic,” argues Magnus. “Warm white lights, red tinsel and ribbon, gold ornaments.”

Alec squints at the tree in front of them, perhaps envisioning Magnus’s proposition in his mind. “Alright,” he says agreeably, nodding and looking to his husband with fond eyes. “But know that I'm only agreeing because red and gold are your colours.”

Magnus frowns. “ _My_ colours?”

Humming softly, Alec puts his arm around Magnus’s waist, leans in close to his ear the way he does when he’s about to say something romantic or dirty or an odd mixture of the two. “That burgundy and gold shirt you were wearing when we first touched… That red and black jacket with the arrows on it…” He breathed out slowly. “You’re so gorgeous all the time, but, by the angel, those ones…”

“You just like that jacket because of what happened last week,” Magnus utters with a soft chuckle.

“Why’d you think it happened in the first place?” Alec practically growls. “You wear that when you come to visit me at work and you expect me to not pull you into a closet? Your faith in my restraint is totally misguided.”

Magnus laughs through Alec kissing him on the temple, pressing his whole body closer to the shadowhunter. The market is no different to all the other times Magnus has been here, but it feels so much more beautiful with Alec’s presence. His husband not only brings light to Magnus’s life, but to everywhere they go together as well.

“Shall we sate that appetite of yours with something else? Something of the food variety perhaps?” Magnus asks and Alec hums his agreement, though he is still looking at Magnus with those hungry eyes. “Good. I have something I want you to try. Wait here, okay?”

His husband does as he is bid, and he’s still in the exact spot when Magnus returns a few minutes later, food in hand. Alec is facing the tree, gazing up at the lights like a child on Christmas morning, but he turns when Magnus approaches, like he could sense the warlock even while out of sight.

He chuckles at the sight of the edible offerings in Magnus’s hands. “What on earth are those?” Alec asks, accepts one when Magnus hands it to him.

“Kürtőskalács,” Magnus says and Alec just blinks at him. “It’s cake, sweetheart, just… just try it. It’s good.”

Alec does so, and his eyes blow wide at the buttery, sugar-crusted pastry, the chocolate and cream filling the inside. Magnus grins at him, kisses a smear of cream from the corner of his mouth. A hot flush touches Alec’s face, but he doesn’t appear embarrassed. Magnus is glad for it.

They take different paths after eating and sitting for a while to digest. Alec insists upon them splitting up, says that he has a surprise planned. Magnus has to wonder exactly what that ‘surprise’ is, since Alec has never been here before, but he elects not to think too much about it. Instead, he browses the stalls, chats idly to the owners.

An arrangement of coloured glass catches his eye and he goes to the stall, looks through little multi-coloured figurines of animals and glass ornaments dangling from the overhead beam that makes up the stall’s fabric roof. One in particular draws his attention. He doesn’t fully understand why, but it does.

“Is this for someone special?” the woman running the stall asks with a smile as she counts out his change. “I don’t mean to sound nosy, but I’ve seen you pass by with your… boyfriend, is he?”

“My husband,” Magnus corrects, just loving that he’s able to say it. It sounds just as good in Romanian as it does in English. “And, yes, it’s for him… I feel as though I’ve been too strict with my décor instructions. I want him to have something that’s his own.”

As if on cue, a voice calls him name and he glances back to see Alec dodging his way past a sudden crowd in front of a food stall and hurrying to Magnus. Thanking the woman, who is looking at him as though he's a puppy that she finds overly adorable, Magnus takes his ornament and slips it into his pocket, wanders over to meet his husband halfway.

Alec is practically skipping to him, slides to a halt in the snow, greets him with a kiss to his cheek and lifts his hand to Magnus’s eye level. A tree ornament dangles from his index finger. It’s a small, stone sculpture of a dark brown tabby cat, adorning a jaunted Santa hat over one ear and with one paw resting atop a small present, a green box tied in a red bow. The cat has golden eyes.

“You like it?” asks Alec, smiling softly but Magnus can sense the concern behind his eyes, like maybe he took a step too far with the similarity between the ornament’s gaze and Magnus’s warlock mark.

Magnus smiles, taking the cat from Alec and turning it over in his fingers, admiring the craftmanship. “It’s beautiful, Alexander,” he says, his heart full to bursting. “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” confirms Magnus, ducking his head and presenting his own finding to Alec. “How’d you like this? I wanted you to have one too.”

Alec cupped the back of Magnus’s hand to inspect the ornament, a chunky snowflake made of roughly cut royal blue and white opaque glass, shimmering with splashes of ice-blue glitter and tied with a silver ribbon. Alec grins at Magnus.

“This is so cool! Where’d you find it?” Magnus gestures to the glasswork stall and Alec breathes out slowly. “Oh, I haven’t been to that one. Did you see something there that you’d prefer? I can keep looking—”

“Alec,” says Magnus, clutching his arm and holding him in place as he tries to rush off again. “You don’t need to look anymore. You found the best one already.” He turns the cat ornament over in his hand and he can feel his eyes soften as he looks at it. “This is perfect.”

“ _You’re_ perfect,” Alec counters, dropping his forehead to Magnus’s own. “Thank you for bringing me here. It's amazing… And thank you for doing this with me—doing Christmas, I mean. I know you had your doubts about it all.”

Magnus shakes his head, his hand coming to grasp the front of Alec’s jacket. He lifts his gaze, watching the lights dance in his husband’s irises and knows, in his heart, that he would do anything for this man. Alec had brought his love back; not only his love for festivities, but his love for everything. Sometimes he loves Alec so much that it _hurt_ , but it is worth it.

“I never have doubts,” he murmurs as he stares up into Alec's eyes, “not about you.”


End file.
